Nevermore
by BluFox15
Summary: It's poetry night, and Danny will never think of the poem "The Raven" the same way again... especially since he never heard the end of the story... Happy Halloween!


**Happy Halloween, everybody! Hope you enjoy this completely out-of-the-blue one-shot while I contemplate whether or not I should become Goth. ^^ My Beta, Cordria's, exact words for the final product were "Gah! Post it already, so I can stop with the waterworks. (from it being so nice)". Certainly makes me happy with myself :). So here it is, my Halloween one-shot, Nevermore...**

It was poetry night.

Sam was currently attempting to get our favorite techno geek and halfa duo to come with her to her nightclub. "Sam," started Danny, "No insult to your Gothic choice of life, but Gothic clubs are for... well... _Goths_. We would stick out like sore thumbs."

"Yeah," said Tucker, hands fiddling, as usual, with his beloved PDA, "and they probably don't have anything _edible_ to eat anyway." He was rewarded with a large goose egg on his head instead of his trademark hat.

Sam pulled back her fist and sighed, irritated. "Come on, guys, I always go to your special tech seminars," she shot a glare at Tucker, who winced, "or to Axion's space station tours," she stared pointedly at Danny, who took his place next to Tucker, "so now it's my turn! There's this new Gothic night club called _Evanescence_, which means 'fading away,' and every Goth in Amity Park _and_ the surrounding neighborhoods is going to be there!"

The boys looked sideways at each other, and then back to Sam. Since Tucker was still grimacing from the injury, Danny spoke up. "Okay, Sam, if it means that much to you..."

He didn't finish before Sam wrapped him in a brief hug before pulling on his and Tucker's arms. "Thanks, Danny! You'll have a great time, I promise!"

Danny caught his breath long enough to ask one last question, "What poem are you doing?"

Sam looked back with a dark glint in her eye that, for some reason, chilled Danny to the core, not unlike his ghost sense. "You'll see. It's my favorite..."

* * *

Most of the poems were either too mopey, too bluesy, too creepy, or just plain too dark. Both Tucker and Danny felt like they were going to either have nightmares for the next fifty years, or be stuck in depression for the rest of their _lives_.

"Man," said Tucker, shivering from the effects of that last poem, "after _The Horrors of Sleep_, I don't think I'll ever fall asleep again."

"Heck, after that one, I don't think I'll ever close my _eyes_ again!" Danny was paler than normal. Fighting the dead was one thing. Listening to creepy stories _about_ the dead was in a whole other category that Danny wasn't sure he wanted to venture through ever again.

"Dude, I knew this was a bad idea. How am I supposed to tell my mom tomorrow that I didn't get enough sleep last night because I was afraid of croaking before I wake up!?"

"Look, I don't like it either, but we promised Sam." Tucker glared. "Okay, okay, _I_ promised Sam. At least let's finish listening to her poem before we run off screaming?" As if on cue, the lights changed color to various shades of purple, and Sam stepped onto the stage, looking as depressed as the rest of the Goths in the building.

"_The Raven_, by Edgar Allen Poe," she said, in the same depressing monologue as the rest, and she took the microphone and began to recite the poem from memory.

_Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,  
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,  
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,  
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.  
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door -  
Only this, and nothing more..." _

Danny felt oddly intrigued by the poem. He had never read it himself, and the way Sam was speaking almost made him feel like he was actually in the poem, could hear the knocking... it sounded like a hammer was pounding on a nail... it racked his brain, and Danny mentally congratulated Sam on performing so well.

_... Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,  
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;  
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,  
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,  
That I scarce was sure I heard you"- here I opened wide the door; -  
Darkness there, and nothing more..._

Suddenly, that knocking didn't seem to be in his imagination anymore. He could hear _someone_ knocking on a door or a window. He broke away from listening to Sam to see if anyone was going to answer it - but no one moved. Everyone was staring straight at Sam, whose eyes were closed, and she was obviously too caught up in her poem to notice the attention.

Danny turned to Tucker to ask if he heard the knocking as well, but Tucker was as entranced as the rest of the club, which was odd because he couldn't care less about anything to do with Literature. "Tuck?" He waved his hands in front of his face, but received no response. He snapped his fingers. "Tucker? Come on, I know I said to pay attention to Sam's poem, but I didn't mean for you ignore--,"

He stopped dead, because once he reached to put his hand on Tucker's shoulder, he couldn't. It went right through.

_... Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,  
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;  
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;  
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -  
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -  
Perched, and sat, and nothing more... _

He was scared. He wasn't trying to become intangible, and yet he was. Apparently, he was invisible too, because neither Tucker, nor the rest of the club could see him trying to get their attention.

Then Danny's vision started to get slightly darker. At first he thought it was the lights dimming for the ambiance, but he soon realized that it was him and not the club. "What the--," before he could say anything else, his sight vanished and he was plunged into darkness.

_... Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,  
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.  
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,  
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore -  
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"  
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore..."_

He was surrounded by nothing but living shadows, all more than willing to suffocate him. Before they had the chance however, he transformed and blasted at every tentacle that came near him until he turned and saw a door.

_... But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only  
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.  
Nothing further then he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered -  
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "other friends have flown before -  
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."  
Then the bird said, "Nevermore..."_

It was a very large and powerful door - a door that couldn't help but make you wonder who could possibly have the power to make such an intimidating door - but also very plain, with nothing but a thousand-year-old ring to pull in order to get it open.

He didn't know how long he floated there, just staring at the structure, nor did he notice how the shadows recoiled from him the moment he laid eyes on it. The only thing that changed in that indefinite amount of time was the appearance of three figures atop the door frame, only distinguishable from the abysmal background by a malicious red glow contouring around them.

_... But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,  
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;  
Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking  
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -  
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore  
Meant in croaking "Nevermore..."_

"Fenton."

"Phantom."

"Daniel."

His three names were called, causing him to finally give his attention to the three figures. After a good while of staring, he finally figured out what they were. They were Ravens.

_... This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing  
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;  
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining  
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,  
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,  
_ _She shall press, ah, nevermore!..._

"You have blurred the line for far too long," said a deep and commanding voice - the Raven in the middle.

"We Ravens are creatures of death and despair, and are thus charged with guarding the Gates of Death, which you see before you," a woman's voice, this time, came from the Raven on the left.

"As we guard these Gates, the Doves, creatures of life and light, guard the Gates of Life. All is a balance." A child's voice, too young to tell gender, came from the Raven on the right.

"But now," they all spoke in an eerily matching unison, causing what few intact nerves Danny had to become shot, "the balance must be restored!"

_... Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer  
Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.  
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he hath sent thee  
Respite - respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore:  
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"  
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore..."_

Danny was confused, and decided to speak up for the first time. "What are you saying, _'the balance must be restored'_? What balance!?"

The center Raven spoke. "The balance between the living and the dead, of course."

"Existence was created with a distinct line between life and death."

"As a hybrid, you blur that line, to the point where the elimination of your Existence is the only way to mend it."

_"... Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -  
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,  
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -  
On this home by horror haunted- tell me truly, I implore -  
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!"  
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore..."_

"Wait, wait," said Danny, who's confidence decided to suddenly take a U-turn, "My Existence!? Can't you just take away my powers? And why now?"

Once again, the center Raven spoke first. "Your powers have no effect on the fact that you are no longer alive."

"You must disappear from the face of Existence in order for things to right themselves."

"And now, your Existence has already begun to undo itself. We have no say in when."

_"... Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil - prophet still, if bird or devil!  
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -  
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,  
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore -  
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."  
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore..."_

Now, Danny was flat-out terrified. "But, I-I'm not the only hybrid!" If he thought he would gain any sort of sympathy from them, he was sorely disappointed.

The center Raven laughed. "We know this. Masters,"

"Plasmius,"

"Vlad, and Fenton,"

"Phantom,"

"Danielle have already been taken care of. And now,"

"We sentence the last hybrid to the Darkness of Death,"

"And restore the balance once and for all!" they finished in unison.

_"... Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend," I shrieked, upstarting -  
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!  
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!  
Leave my loneliness unbroken!- quit the bust above my door!  
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"  
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore..."_

Before the Ravens finished their verdict, the Gate flew open revealing thousands upon thousands of Ravens. Danny's skin paled further, bordering on white. If he was scared before, now he was petrified. The smell of decaying bodies wafted through the Gate, causing him to want to heave. That is, if he could find the mindset to move.

But before any other thoughts could cross his mind, he felt all of the Ravens pecking and clawing at him, cutting through spandex and skin and muscle, straight to bone. Danny cried out, the pain too unbearable. It felt even worse than his portal accident and every fight, ghostly or otherwise, he had ever been in combined. He tried to fight them off, but there were too many, and the more that poured out of the Gate, the bigger they seemed to get.

As he felt himself change back into a human, he was vaguely aware of the many Ravens dragging him through the door. He looked out, seeing nothing but black, and called out the first - and last - thing he thought of:

"Sam..."

He could only reach out with a bony hand, skin torn off and hanging from the guardians' assault, before the Gate closed and faded, leaving the area with nothing but the living, suffocating darkness once more.

* * *

_... And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting  
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;  
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,  
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;  
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor  
Shall be lifted - nevermore! _

Sam finished her poem, and opened her eyes to the welcoming sound of everyone in the club snapping fingers appropriately. Well, except for Tucker, who was clapping loudly and receiving glares that could make the dead shiver.

As the lights changed back to normal, the audience finally dispersed for the night, and Sam climbed down from the stage to meet Tucker, who was standing by the door. He waved at her as she approached. "Hey, Sam! That was great! How'd you manage to memorize the whole thing?"

Sam shrugged. "When you have an interest in something, like, I don't know, death and despair, you get into that sort of thing." As they were leaving the building, she suddenly felt a gust of lukewarm wind.

_"Sam..."_

"What?" she turned to Tucker, who was fiddling, once again, with his PDA. He looked up at her exclamation with a surprised look on his face.

"Huh? I didn't say anything..." he said, raising an eyebrow.

"But I thought..." Same thought for a moment that she recognized the voice... but who...? "Never mind. It's not important."

Tucker just shrugged and walked out, head buried in his PDA once more. Sam looked behind herself warily, before running off after Tucker.

Neither of them noticed the black, oily feather sitting where the now non-existent Danny Fenton was supposed to be sitting.

Did Sam and Tucker ever realize that the third member of their group was cursed to spend eternity in the Darkness?

_Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore..."_


End file.
